


Heartwood

by ancamna0



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: Character Study, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:01:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25567123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ancamna0/pseuds/ancamna0
Summary: An introspective on Brad.
Relationships: One sided Brad Colbert/Ray Person
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	Heartwood

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pashalawa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pashalawa/gifts).



Men come and go in the Marine Corps, Recon especially. Some are just in for the paycheck, and retire instead of reenlisting when the time comes. Others are just in for the GI college bill.

Sgt Brad Colbert didn’t particularly pay attention to the comings and goings of the men. He worked with them, trained with them, fought with them, and bled with them. But they didn’t linger with him for the most part. Swarr, Kocher, and Pappy had been around for a while. They were career like him, and they were friendly. Espera had forced the issue, but even then he held him at a distance. Brothers in arms, but not truly friends.

The one man who managed to dig into him and make a home was one Josh Ray Person. Man was perhaps a nice way of describing the whiskey tango reject. But there was no better RTO in the business. And he had worked hard to have him assigned to Recon and to his unit specifically. Wanting to work with the best in an elite unit was only natural, ensured peak combat readiness, and raised the likelihood of mission success.

Or that’s what he told himself. Brad Colbert had one failed relationship behind him that scarred him deeply. It was the reason he was closed off to all ‘friends’ and had sworn off relations of any kind, making do with whores and one-night-stands in the ports on libo.

He was not gay. The Marine Corps did not allow for that, and so he was not. If he were a free man, he might be considered bisexual, or pansexual, or whatever the new PC terms were. But he was very much a red-blooded, heterosexual man within the context of the Marine Corps, his life and his livelihood.

Ray disturbed that balance in a big way.

You wouldn’t know it to look at him, but behind that brash, ridiculous exterior, there was a mind and a heart too good for the Marine Corps. Too good for Brad. He was a persistent little fuck too. Brad attempted to keep his same level of separation that he kept with everyone, but Ray could smell the bullshit. He forced his way in for South Park marathons, invited himself over for the big game with a case of beer under an arm, until Brad was inviting him over of his own volition.

Even at work, Ray became an integral part of Brad. Only a single shout of, “I need my RTO!” to bring Ray running. The insults were friendly, and anyone else would be firmly put in their place if they thought they could disparage Ray Person in front of Brad Colbert. And it had been such a slow and insidious build up that Brad hadn’t even noticed the attachment until it was far too late.

He spent much of his free time with the little shit, and he was happy to. Moments with just Ray were pleasant; he felt understood and seen in a way he had not in years, possibly ever. Jess had never created the same feeling of peace with her presence, the same feeling of acceptance for all that he is.

Sure, Ray might give him shit for raking the carpet as a child, for being a Viking motherfucker, for anything and everything, but he never meant it cruelly and backed off if he found a real sore spot. Because for a big, tough, career Marine, Brad Colbert was still sensitive and soft and could be hurt. And Ray saw those moments and protected them.

He was not sure when the infatuation started. If asked, there was no infatuation. The goat fucking retard was barely a friend. In truth, he was his best friend.

The crush snuck up on him though. It took ages for him to realize what was happening because it had been so long. Everyone was kept far enough away; it wasn’t really possibly for him to get attached. But Ray was always there. He may have made fun of him on the daily, but he was a perfectly fine height with a strong brow, and deep-set hangdog eyes. The crooked teeth Ray complained about were charming, and his smiles could brighten up the room. His laugh sounded like a braying donkey, but the genuine mirth was infectious.

And here he was waxing poetic on Ray Person. This was a fucking disaster.

OIF was a test of patience. Locked in a confined space next to Ray, with three other people to sit as witness to the Brad-and-Ray show, and hopefully not picking up on any of the homoerotic subtext. He watched as command slowly fucked them and the only decent officer above him. He watched it all force Ray to consume more and more Ripped Fuel, sending him into a longer spiral. 

Brad had to take care of his victor first, his platoon second, and Ray after that. Even though everything in him wanted to save Ray from the come down off the Ephedra, wanted to tell him it was okay, that he didn’t have to be the funny comedic relief for the company every time. That he was doing a good job. That he was the best RTO he could have asked for.

Instead he insulted him some more and passed him another MRE, and if he gave him one of the coveted jalapeno and cheese, no one noticed to call him on it.

OIF was a study in stolen glances and worry. And he was grateful to be out of that goat fuck of an invasion. Whether the US military won or lost, he couldn’t say, but the Marines themselves sure lost plenty. This particular trip overseas, this particular mission, was so outside of typical Recon work. He would actually miss some of these fuckers by the end, men he had had the time to get to know a bit better than allowed by the typical recon mission. And he knew that he would actually be missing them.

This many years in, Brad could tell when someone was not going to be reenlisting. The LT was certainly showing the signs, and that would be a loss. But Nate Fick was an Ivy League altar boy, and he had come in as an idealistic hero. It was not really a surprise that this invasion soured the Corps for him, though he would be missed.

He almost missed the signs on Ray, trying so hard not to look at him as he was. But Brad noticed. He felt his growing silence at the end as he pulled into himself. All other deployments he had kept up the energy and the good humor, but this one was different. And that didn’t change when they got back. Brad tried, but Ray disappeared back to his buttfuck middle-of-nowhere hometown when they touched down, out of reach.

And when time came to report back in, he looked healthier and had put back on some of the weight they had all lost. His eyes though. They didn’t have the same endless mirth, like he was thinking of a joke at your expense. And that hurt. Brad couldn’t reach him as well. And couldn’t let himself reach out either. He was a red blooded, heterosexual Marine, and he did not have feelings for any of the men and especially not Sgt Ray Person.

He took the opportunity with the Royal Marines. It was going to be a great training experience, far, far away from his problems. It was a smart career move, a testament to his abilities to have been nominated, and an honor to be sent to show those limeys what American military is capable of.

And if he still occasionally thought of Ray, with his eyes and his smiles, he was far enough away to stop himself from doing anything stupid.

**Author's Note:**

> Beta by Pashalawa
> 
> I haven't posted fanfiction in a very long, and I hadn't planned to ever start again.
> 
> But this Fandom was introduced to me by Pashalawa and sunk it's hooks in deep. So here we are.  
> Amusingly, my actual favorite character is Nate, but this is what came out first. 
> 
> I hope one day Pashalawa and I will clean up some of the stuff we've written and post some more. Eventually.


End file.
